Bullseye

So the morning further polishing Diabolus in Musica, which has now reached 6.5k words, which is long for me. The more I polish it, however, the better it gets. This in contrast to the three or four poems I am working on which refuse to fall into place. 

Robin and I did a bit of recording on the pre-Christmas podcast. I like how Nick, giving Robin a cup of tea, takes in his stride the sight of his wife at her desk, talking into a microphone with a blanket on her head.

Later I made off to the post office, where I joined the masked ration queued for an half an hour in the street. This done, I was just setting off on a walk, when a seagull precision bombed the area of concern with guano. Having not even a tissue in my pocket, I had to slope home right away to shower. Luckily the offering was only on my head and in my hair, and not my clothes.

Talk now of tightening still further the Christmas rules, in the light of a new surge. For some reason, the figures for Sussex are very low. The national average is about 150 cases per 100,000 people. Here in Brighton it is sixty something.

I prepared hake for supper, lightly floured and gently fried in a little butter and olive oil. Surprisingly nice, with rice and Jerusalem artichoke, butternut squash, leek and garlic, which were the rather random veggies we had left to eat. We are nearing the end of watching Death in Paradise again. Strange how I quite enjoy these weekday escapes, and watching the stories click through the formula. Liking this show is one of the oddest things to have happened this year. Also watched video that Beth had edited of little children in Lorraine's school singing songs. Heartwarming.